Vendetta
by JudgeJuryExecutioner
Summary: Before everything -about six years before in fact- Malik and Altair were like brothers. And one mission would test those bonds. An unpredictable series of events lead them to the weirdest of places, most of which aren't shown on any map. Eventual AltMal.


**This is a story that evolved from a plot bunny born in my brain while watching Finding Nemo...curious how stuff like that happens, eh? Anyway, a second story up, hope it will be multi-chaptered.  
**

**Oh, and Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed...if that wasn't already clear...  
**

The sun exploded in a violent mix of orange and yellow hues, rays of light peeked in through closed windows and rumpled blankets, forcing all the assassins of Masyaf to rise and take up the day's work. All except one, who happened to be peacefully snoring the morning away under several layers of blankets, not waking up even when his roommates cleared the cluttered sleeping quarters. Malik Al-Sayf had already crawled out of bed and reported to the master's summons while his younger brother searched for his teacher in order to start his training.

And Altair, well, he was still happily drooling into the pillow when Malik came charging in through the open door, a blur of white robes and excited shouts. Altair managed a tired groan through the blankets at the other assassin's disturbing presence but was dragged out of bed and ordered to get dressed, very rudely he thought, and he made it known too.

"Malik, it's too early. No."

"We have a mission, I couldn't care less."

"We?"

"Yes Altair, it's the word people use when they mean _me_ and_ you_. Did I put it simply enough for you?"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"What sort of mission?" Altair questioned, still not dressed and perched on the edge of his bed, shooting Malik all kinds of angry glares.

"A rescue mission, two assassins were caught and _we_ have to go get them." Malik folded his arms and reprimanded Altair with his own angry glare. Altair broke under the force of his stare and shrugged into his robes reluctantly.

"When do we leave?" the assassin demanded, still giving Malik rebellious looks.

"Two hours ago, we're late." Malik pivoted on his heel sharply and left Altair to finish while he prepared the horses. Altair huffed a few times before sprinting out of the room, determined to beat Malik to the stables.

He could have planned that better, really; could've, should've, would've, but did he? No. And those were the exact thoughts running through his head as he watched the ranting woman standing above him while he sat in the puddle and remains of the vase she had been carrying. The stout, red-faced woman paused in her furious lecture and Altair took this as an opportunity to escape and so he promptly picked himself up and fled the scene of the crime.

"There's bound to be at least fifteen guards around that tower…mark my words!" Malik hissed to his companion who didn't seem too interested in the conversation.

"Consider them marked…I bet you I can get up, find the right road, and get back down without _any_ of them noticing." Altair smirked at Malik, practically begging for the quick punch that bounced off his jaw moments later. Nursing the tender spot he opened his mouth to protest.

"No! We're already lost from one of your damn…_escapades_-"

"How was I supposed to know the idiot guard would react like that!"

"You horse trampled over his foot! I think he's justified!"

"Oh, so now you're taking their side?"

"I didn't say that you damned idiot! Is it impossible for you to simply _blend_ in! Your stupid pride gets in the way of everything!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"YOU keep your voice down! You've dragged me half way across the Kingdom with not even a clue as to where we are and a battalion of guards on our tail, I think that I have the right to YELL!"

Altair's eyes grew to the size of saucers at Malik's outraged cry and he clamped one hand over his mouth and dragged both of them deeper into the haystack. Malik was tempted to bite down on the restraining hand but held back, thinking there must be a reason behind such caution.

Heavy steps battered the ground in a weary rhythm matching the pounding of the hidden assassin's hearts. A shout demanded the sudden stop of the army of feet and the two assassins held their breath. Orders were exchanged and moments crawled by leaving the assassins alone in their haystack and the soldiers to continue their mundane jobs.

Altair removed his hand slowly, allowing Malik to take a shaky breath and the two of them to climb out of their hiding place.

"No yelling, not anymore." He heaved a giant breath and leaned against the cart.

"…I agree." Malik stood next to the other assassin and both of them watched the group of guards stalk towards the tower and patrol it's perimeter.

"…I'm going in." Altair stated, Malik thought a little too determined for someone with a death wish. He pulled away from the cart and threw his hands up in false prayer, approaching the tower as a humble monk.

"You're _so_ going to get caught." Malik called after him when he was only one step away.

"Too good to get caught." Malik snorted loudly. One more step.

"Arrogant ass." Another step.

"Love you too." And for some incomprehensible reason, Malik's cheeks burned and he couldn't help but sink deeper into his hood and let Altair escape without some biting retort. He watched the other assassin's careful progress, smothering that strange feeling in his gut and willing himself to look as natural as possible to any passing soldier.

Malik's eyes drifted back up, towards the ground around the tower only to find that Altair was not there. He leaned back quickly, but only quick enough to catch the lone figure perched on a wooden beam for a second. Altair's body plummeted from the top of the tower and even Malik could see the elated grin splitting his cheeks.

The assassin landed somewhere farther off; Malik collected their two horses and casually wandered to the spot he expected Altair to have landed. Offering a humble nod to a curious guard, he whistled a short tune and was startled when he was pulled back into the large pile of hay.

"You owe me!" Hints of the small grin still tugged on Altair's lips and Malik was suspicious at once.

"For what exactly?" He asked skeptically.

"None of them saw me and we had a bet." Altair managed to look triumphant through the straw covering them.

"Ha…we never shook on it."

"And?"

"So it doesn't count." Malik would claim that Altair had pulled a pouty-face though the man himself would claim it was an indifferent scowl of badassery.

"Right…on with the mission." Malik continued and struggled out of the pile of hay, the stiff strands pricking at him through his robes.

And so, the two assassins set off on their quest-

"Did you find the right road Altair?" Malik demanded of the other assassin when they had set off in a direction chosen by Altair.

"…" For some strange reason Altair didn't respond, perhaps he hadn't heard Malik.

"Altair…?" Malik's tone held a certain dangerous air about it, and, if he was not mistaken, Altair turned a shade pink.

"This one seemed the best route." He mumbled, looking for all the world like a child getting scolded.

"Well…it _is_ the right one…_right_?" Malik sounded a tad more frustrated than before.

"…Probably." The assassin offered before kicking his horse into a faster walk and creating distance between them.

"What!" Because sometimes probably isn't enough and Malik was properly peeved this time. If Altair had had any common sense, he would have kept his trap shut.

As I was saying…And so, the two assassins set off on their quest, a story begins. A grand tale of love, loss, and adventure, maybe some humor thrown into the brew…but who knows?

**Hoo Rah! If the assassins seemed silly...that was intentional, this was supposed to be way back when they were good friends and both of them were still novices. In the summary it said six years before Solomon Temple, I believe that puts them around 19 years old.**


End file.
